It’s only fair that I balance out my previous post about things that I like out here with things that I miss back home. To be really honest, this doesn’t have anything to do with balancing, it has more to do with the fact that I’m ready to come home. But can you blame me really? I can only make so many different types of baked potatoes or go to the gym so many times a day. There comes a time when the grass gets so blindingly green over the fence that you’re willing to risk that electric fence and try to jump over. Too bad I don’t control that, and I’m obligated by some intrinsic set of morals that forces me to stay here until my time is complete.
It’s kind of like a jail sentence without that nasty criminal record and the crime that put you there. I’m sure jail is all candy canes and lollipops in the beginning. You get 3 square meals, cable television, a bed and probably some decent stories. But then you start to realize that you’re stuck, you can’t leave, you can’t do what you want and your cell mate starts looking at you with that sparkle in his eye. That’s when you realize that maybe that crime wasn’t such a good idea. But in my case there isn’t a cell mate, and there wasn’t a crime so it’s just me saying that spending a year chasing after militants is enough.
I’m sure in either situation you start to miss those free days when the wind was flowing through your hair as you cruised down the highway with your windows down on a warm summer day heading in no particular direction at all. That’s why this post was necessary, instead of that yin-yang excuse I was trying to sell earlier. Albeit my sales pitch could probably use some work, but at least I started off with it instead of jumping right into the sparkly eyed cell mate.
But let it be known that the aforementioned freedom is greatly missed, the freedom to do whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted and however I wanted. I miss sleeping in on weekends if I felt like it. Since there are no weekends out here, there isn’t much opportunity to sleep in. Along those same lines, I miss taking that sick day in the middle of the week even though I’m clearly well enough to wake up and make the call into work.
I miss waking up just before the sun rose to go out to Creve Coeur or Forest Park for a 4 to 12 miler. The air smelled clean as I trotted along enjoying the changing scenery with every passing foot. I traded that to spend an hour on the treadmill at the gym. I’m still there before the sunrises but the smell of drying paint is somehow less desirable than the smell of clean air.
I miss seeing friends when I wanted to, or staying in when I didn’t feel like doing anything. To have the option to say, “I think I’m going to stay home today” instead of thinking, “God I’m so tired of seeing these people.” I miss having a variety of people to hang out with, rather than seeing the same five or six individuals every hour of every day without any other options because everyone else on the FOB is hanging out with their same group of folks.
I miss real commercials, yes, REAL commercials. I’m not complaining about having television, since we didn’t have it in Afghanistan, but we have AFN (Armed Forces Network), which has been playing the same commercials since AFN’s creation. They’re not even really commercials. I can’t really describe them but they’re directed toward the military and created by the military. I can say that while I was in Australia I actually looked forward to seeing something being sold on TV. I’d take the Sham-Wow guy or Ronco right now…
I miss real conversation. Everything out here usually has something to do with the government collapsing or who’s to blame for the financial collapse. I like to point out that somehow people survived without either in the past and that I don’t plan on just disappearing if something bad happens, not that anything bad will happen. But that doesn’t seem to affect anyone else’s views, they apparently all have some kind of future machine that tells them the world is ending and since their lives are tied directly to the health of the government or the financial system those will end too. Maybe I’ll be the only one left, who knows…
There’s plenty more that I’m excited to get home to either do, or not have to deal with but those are just the things that stand out right now. So does anyone know anyone who’s hiring on the greener side right now?
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Just Another Tourist
I’ve spent close to a week trying to figure out how to tell the story about my trip to Australia. The problem I’ve run into is that I don’t see much of a story to tell. In the past my travels have led me to all kinds of adventure and excitement. By “in the past” I actually mean my trip to Europe. But this time there wasn’t that pizzazz. It wasn’t like Europe where I went without a plan and met new people and made it up as I went along. This trip was your run of the mill tourist trip, nothing very exciting at all.
I traveled with a friend, so there wasn’t any need to meet anyone else. In hindsight, I would have had more fun traveling alone and hostel hopping but instead there was always a hotel booked and at least something in mind to do. I envied those who were staying at the hostels, they were not only traveling cheap but they were able to connect with new people and hang out with someone other than those they were traveling with.
The trip was a lot of fun, but it just lacked that edginess, the excitement that keeps the words flowing and the pages turning. So instead I’ll just talk about how I’m unable to write anything about it because it just wasn’t exciting enough to write about. Maybe this story was just one to be told over a cold beverage instead of over a keyboard. I can assure you that the next time I go it’ll be me, a car and lots of open road.
I traveled with a friend, so there wasn’t any need to meet anyone else. In hindsight, I would have had more fun traveling alone and hostel hopping but instead there was always a hotel booked and at least something in mind to do. I envied those who were staying at the hostels, they were not only traveling cheap but they were able to connect with new people and hang out with someone other than those they were traveling with.
The trip was a lot of fun, but it just lacked that edginess, the excitement that keeps the words flowing and the pages turning. So instead I’ll just talk about how I’m unable to write anything about it because it just wasn’t exciting enough to write about. Maybe this story was just one to be told over a cold beverage instead of over a keyboard. I can assure you that the next time I go it’ll be me, a car and lots of open road.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
'05 Flat As A Pancake Century
I don't think I ever posted this but found it on my computer. It’s been kind of slow around here, so I’ll go ahead and post it. It was one of the first century rides I did in New Baden, IL around September of 2005.
I woke up this morning debating between hitting the snooze button and falling back asleep or actually gathering my gear and going out to ride my bike for 100 miles. This was going to be the first century ride that I would be doing myself since I started riding. I can tell you for certain that it’s a lot easier to get out there when you know someone else might be waiting on you than it is when you’re going to be hitting the streets alone. I usually like to finish what I start and since technically I started as soon as I signed up, this was going to be no different.
I had just ridden the MS150 a couple weeks ago and it was a rather painful experience given the fact that I’ve never ridden that far on a bike and worse yet was convinced to ride 175 miles rather than the 150 I was lead to believe I was doing. On top of the desire to sleep in, and the idea of being on a bike alone for 5-6 hours, it was also pretty overcast out making my decision even more difficult. Ultimately I decided to mount up and head out despite the warmth my bed was providing.
As I was rolling into IL the clouds loomed overhead. The hour drive felt more like a decade as the rain rolled off of my windshield. When I finally arrived at the starting area, which was in a small park at the center of New Baden, the rain was reduced to a fine drizzle.
“Oh this won’t be so bad. It’ll probably clear up in an hour anyway.” I thought to myself, despite lacking any meteorological backing.
I bobbed and weaved my way around puddles to the registration desk.
“How many people showed up today?” I asked the woman manning the registration box.
“There were about 200 people registered to ride, about 50 have checked in so far.” She responded.
Those numbers seemed reasonable. There are a lot of people who might have signed up and decided not to ride. It was still early and a lot of people might just be running late, plus I’m sure a lot of them went out the night prior and maybe they just weren’t feeling it today. Maybe some of them were sick too… Basically I was thinking of any excuse for why ¾ of the people weren’t there, other than the obvious weather element.
Fortunately, actually more unfortunately, by the time I got my packet the rain had stopped and the sun was peeking through the scattering clouds. Given my propensity for minimalism I decided that since the weather was turning I would just leave my jacket in the car. I wasn’t about to wear it if it was going to get hot and I really don’t like carrying anymore than I need, especially if I have to pedal along with the extra weight. On a side note, I’ve since reconsidered that minimalistic attitude, but not enough to change the habit…
While I was getting my packet and attaching my race numbers to various spots on myself and my bike I met a few people and asked them if I could join their group. Fortunately they saw me as friendly enough, or maybe just not fast enough to catch them, and agreed that an extra rider would be good to have in the draft line. So that took care of the 5-6 hours of loneliness that I wasn’t looking forward to. But as it turned out that wasn’t my main enemy for the day.
As we rolled about a mile outside of the park the rain started again. It was back to the down pour I experienced on the way to the park, except this time I wasn’t within the safety of my vehicle. Despite all signs pointing to the contrary, I decided that I’d keep riding without the jacket, even though it was only a short distance away at this point. It couldn’t possibly rain the ENTIRE time… Could it?
Yes it could… It could rain the whole time and it could rain harder and harder as I got further and further away from my car and my jacket. By the time we’d reached 20 miles our group of 5 to 10 riders had dwindled to 2, me and another guy who happened to ride at the same pace as I was riding at the time. Two guys trying to push the limits of Mother Nature’s fury. But as long as he kept pushing, I would keep pushing, even though it was starting to make less and less sense to do so.
And thus the fury of Mother Nature continued to the point where less and less sense became straight stupid. The rain came in so hard that it fell sideways. The wind blew as if God himself was on a sneezing fit and we were his handkerchief. It was wet, it was cold, and it was awful. My shorts were soaked through to the padding, my jersey clung to me like an insecure girlfriend, and my whole body quivered like I was a freshly delivered baby in Antarctica.
These 100 miles were going to be a test of will. But the reason I got into this was to better myself, and what better way than to push my body and my mind to their operable limits. It was certainly a test. It was like a one question college physics exam meant to take 2 hours. However, in this case I couldn’t just write down all the formulas I remembered and hope to get partial credit for pity, weather pities no one…
The other guy had other incentives for being here. This particular ride was part of the 5-Star Century Series. If you ride all 5 rides you get a free jersey and this was his second to last ride before achieving that goal. He wasn’t as strong as I was on the bike but the desire to get through the last two rides was enough to keep him going as strong as I was and stay on my back wheel as if the earth was crumbling behind us.
No matter which way the route turned we’d hit a head wind. We’d be traveling south into the wind and turn east to get another face full of wind. We’d start turning north, hoping for a little reprieve just to face another disappointment. I was becoming more and more agitated by natures refusal to give me a tail wind. In my delusional and agitated state I started cursing at the weather, luckily the other guy had already fallen behind and wasn’t there to wonder if I was insane. Even though most of the drivers along the road were sure to think we all were.
Around mile 60 was the lunch stop inside the VFW Hall where could get warmed up and dried off. At this point I had been on my bike for about 3 1/2 soaking hours. There were a few others there, which made me feel a little better about riding through the rain. Plus it was another opportunity to hook up with another group of riders and get in another draft line to ease the persistent headwind.
I made a sandwich, grabbed some chips, a drink and sat down. Despite the hard plastic chair, it was far more comfortable than my bike seat at that point. I was able to stretch out a bit and let my legs be free of the restrictiveness of my bike pedals. Plus I was able to talk to some of the others still riding, in addition to the event coordinator, which was a moral boost. Not to mention the fact that I was over half way through with the ride.
Getting back on the bike was tough given the fact that the rain hadn't let up at all. I joined another group of riders during lunch, which I was sure to lose promptly, and sure enough about 20 miles out I dropped off the last wheel of the draft. Being in a line is great. There isn’t any headwind at all because the guy up front is taking the beating. Trouble is that everyone gets their turn and my turn was enough to drop me off the back and I watched, sadly, as the group pushed further and further away.
There were 15 miles left and the rain was coming down harder now than it had all day. I was moving pretty slow now. Between losing that second group, being soaked and cold, the morale boost at lunch wasn’t enough to push me at any good pace through the consistently strong headwind and torrential rain. Then temptation in the form of a couple guys in a flatbed pulled up and asked if I needed a ride. Give up now, so close to the finish or am I close enough that I might as well say I finished? You have to finish what you start and you’re not finished until you’re rolling into the parking lot with a relieved smile across your face. So I declined, and the truck rolled off into the rain.
It wouldn’t be long until I finally reached the town again. The joy of knowing that you’ve battled through everything and have nearly survived is overwhelming. There wasn't a sole in sight, neither in cars nor on bikes. But finishing alone isn’t near as scary as starting alone and that’s how I rolled back into the park, alone.
When I got home and finally watched the weather report I found out that I rode through the leftovers of Hurricane Katrina. I guess it could have been worse, I could have ridden through the hurricane itself.
I woke up this morning debating between hitting the snooze button and falling back asleep or actually gathering my gear and going out to ride my bike for 100 miles. This was going to be the first century ride that I would be doing myself since I started riding. I can tell you for certain that it’s a lot easier to get out there when you know someone else might be waiting on you than it is when you’re going to be hitting the streets alone. I usually like to finish what I start and since technically I started as soon as I signed up, this was going to be no different.
I had just ridden the MS150 a couple weeks ago and it was a rather painful experience given the fact that I’ve never ridden that far on a bike and worse yet was convinced to ride 175 miles rather than the 150 I was lead to believe I was doing. On top of the desire to sleep in, and the idea of being on a bike alone for 5-6 hours, it was also pretty overcast out making my decision even more difficult. Ultimately I decided to mount up and head out despite the warmth my bed was providing.
As I was rolling into IL the clouds loomed overhead. The hour drive felt more like a decade as the rain rolled off of my windshield. When I finally arrived at the starting area, which was in a small park at the center of New Baden, the rain was reduced to a fine drizzle.
“Oh this won’t be so bad. It’ll probably clear up in an hour anyway.” I thought to myself, despite lacking any meteorological backing.
I bobbed and weaved my way around puddles to the registration desk.
“How many people showed up today?” I asked the woman manning the registration box.
“There were about 200 people registered to ride, about 50 have checked in so far.” She responded.
Those numbers seemed reasonable. There are a lot of people who might have signed up and decided not to ride. It was still early and a lot of people might just be running late, plus I’m sure a lot of them went out the night prior and maybe they just weren’t feeling it today. Maybe some of them were sick too… Basically I was thinking of any excuse for why ¾ of the people weren’t there, other than the obvious weather element.
Fortunately, actually more unfortunately, by the time I got my packet the rain had stopped and the sun was peeking through the scattering clouds. Given my propensity for minimalism I decided that since the weather was turning I would just leave my jacket in the car. I wasn’t about to wear it if it was going to get hot and I really don’t like carrying anymore than I need, especially if I have to pedal along with the extra weight. On a side note, I’ve since reconsidered that minimalistic attitude, but not enough to change the habit…
While I was getting my packet and attaching my race numbers to various spots on myself and my bike I met a few people and asked them if I could join their group. Fortunately they saw me as friendly enough, or maybe just not fast enough to catch them, and agreed that an extra rider would be good to have in the draft line. So that took care of the 5-6 hours of loneliness that I wasn’t looking forward to. But as it turned out that wasn’t my main enemy for the day.
As we rolled about a mile outside of the park the rain started again. It was back to the down pour I experienced on the way to the park, except this time I wasn’t within the safety of my vehicle. Despite all signs pointing to the contrary, I decided that I’d keep riding without the jacket, even though it was only a short distance away at this point. It couldn’t possibly rain the ENTIRE time… Could it?
Yes it could… It could rain the whole time and it could rain harder and harder as I got further and further away from my car and my jacket. By the time we’d reached 20 miles our group of 5 to 10 riders had dwindled to 2, me and another guy who happened to ride at the same pace as I was riding at the time. Two guys trying to push the limits of Mother Nature’s fury. But as long as he kept pushing, I would keep pushing, even though it was starting to make less and less sense to do so.
And thus the fury of Mother Nature continued to the point where less and less sense became straight stupid. The rain came in so hard that it fell sideways. The wind blew as if God himself was on a sneezing fit and we were his handkerchief. It was wet, it was cold, and it was awful. My shorts were soaked through to the padding, my jersey clung to me like an insecure girlfriend, and my whole body quivered like I was a freshly delivered baby in Antarctica.
These 100 miles were going to be a test of will. But the reason I got into this was to better myself, and what better way than to push my body and my mind to their operable limits. It was certainly a test. It was like a one question college physics exam meant to take 2 hours. However, in this case I couldn’t just write down all the formulas I remembered and hope to get partial credit for pity, weather pities no one…
The other guy had other incentives for being here. This particular ride was part of the 5-Star Century Series. If you ride all 5 rides you get a free jersey and this was his second to last ride before achieving that goal. He wasn’t as strong as I was on the bike but the desire to get through the last two rides was enough to keep him going as strong as I was and stay on my back wheel as if the earth was crumbling behind us.
No matter which way the route turned we’d hit a head wind. We’d be traveling south into the wind and turn east to get another face full of wind. We’d start turning north, hoping for a little reprieve just to face another disappointment. I was becoming more and more agitated by natures refusal to give me a tail wind. In my delusional and agitated state I started cursing at the weather, luckily the other guy had already fallen behind and wasn’t there to wonder if I was insane. Even though most of the drivers along the road were sure to think we all were.
Around mile 60 was the lunch stop inside the VFW Hall where could get warmed up and dried off. At this point I had been on my bike for about 3 1/2 soaking hours. There were a few others there, which made me feel a little better about riding through the rain. Plus it was another opportunity to hook up with another group of riders and get in another draft line to ease the persistent headwind.
I made a sandwich, grabbed some chips, a drink and sat down. Despite the hard plastic chair, it was far more comfortable than my bike seat at that point. I was able to stretch out a bit and let my legs be free of the restrictiveness of my bike pedals. Plus I was able to talk to some of the others still riding, in addition to the event coordinator, which was a moral boost. Not to mention the fact that I was over half way through with the ride.
Getting back on the bike was tough given the fact that the rain hadn't let up at all. I joined another group of riders during lunch, which I was sure to lose promptly, and sure enough about 20 miles out I dropped off the last wheel of the draft. Being in a line is great. There isn’t any headwind at all because the guy up front is taking the beating. Trouble is that everyone gets their turn and my turn was enough to drop me off the back and I watched, sadly, as the group pushed further and further away.
There were 15 miles left and the rain was coming down harder now than it had all day. I was moving pretty slow now. Between losing that second group, being soaked and cold, the morale boost at lunch wasn’t enough to push me at any good pace through the consistently strong headwind and torrential rain. Then temptation in the form of a couple guys in a flatbed pulled up and asked if I needed a ride. Give up now, so close to the finish or am I close enough that I might as well say I finished? You have to finish what you start and you’re not finished until you’re rolling into the parking lot with a relieved smile across your face. So I declined, and the truck rolled off into the rain.
It wouldn’t be long until I finally reached the town again. The joy of knowing that you’ve battled through everything and have nearly survived is overwhelming. There wasn't a sole in sight, neither in cars nor on bikes. But finishing alone isn’t near as scary as starting alone and that’s how I rolled back into the park, alone.
When I got home and finally watched the weather report I found out that I rode through the leftovers of Hurricane Katrina. I guess it could have been worse, I could have ridden through the hurricane itself.
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Randomly Assorted Candy
You know how all those people who have these near death experiences say that their lives flashed before their eyes? Imagine, in an instant the prior 10, 20, 30 years flip away like an animation in your head. Wouldn’t it be cool to see some of those memories again, even those that you can’t consciously remember?
Somehow on our way out of the dining facility tonight we got on this subject and it kind of stuck in my head. It got me to thinking, how entertaining those last moments of my life would be? Would it be something I’d want to watch or would I just want it to be over with? I’ve never walked out on a movie, then again I’ve never gone to a movie I didn’t want to see, but would I want to walk out on my own near death experience? I should certainly hope not.
I think I’ve based my choices in life on story type experiences. Adventures through Europe, marathons, multiple road trips around the US and of course this little jaunt to the Middle East. I think it would be interesting to revisit those experiences in an unexaggerated form, as I usually add a little pizzazz to my stories. It’s kind of like how Emeril adds a little something to all his dishes… BAM! I guess exaggeration is to stories as spices are to food.
I’d hope during those few seconds that some memories that I don’t consciously remember will sprout back up. I wonder if they would only be good memories to help calm the brain or if memories are chosen at random. If it is random I hope it’s not like getting a box of Runts with more bananas than cherries.
You know you’re excited to get a box of Runts but then you want specific Runts. It’s one of those unanswered questions. Will my near death experience be like a box of Runts with more banana than cherry? I certainly hope not, I really like cherry Runts and I really don’t particularly like banana, but I guess you get what Willy Wonka gives you.
Of course you can substitute whatever box of candy you want, from whatever manufacturer so long as it’s randomly assorted. If I had my choice my near death experience would be a bag of Cherry Pull ‘n Peel Twizzlers.
Somehow on our way out of the dining facility tonight we got on this subject and it kind of stuck in my head. It got me to thinking, how entertaining those last moments of my life would be? Would it be something I’d want to watch or would I just want it to be over with? I’ve never walked out on a movie, then again I’ve never gone to a movie I didn’t want to see, but would I want to walk out on my own near death experience? I should certainly hope not.
I think I’ve based my choices in life on story type experiences. Adventures through Europe, marathons, multiple road trips around the US and of course this little jaunt to the Middle East. I think it would be interesting to revisit those experiences in an unexaggerated form, as I usually add a little pizzazz to my stories. It’s kind of like how Emeril adds a little something to all his dishes… BAM! I guess exaggeration is to stories as spices are to food.
I’d hope during those few seconds that some memories that I don’t consciously remember will sprout back up. I wonder if they would only be good memories to help calm the brain or if memories are chosen at random. If it is random I hope it’s not like getting a box of Runts with more bananas than cherries.
You know you’re excited to get a box of Runts but then you want specific Runts. It’s one of those unanswered questions. Will my near death experience be like a box of Runts with more banana than cherry? I certainly hope not, I really like cherry Runts and I really don’t particularly like banana, but I guess you get what Willy Wonka gives you.
Of course you can substitute whatever box of candy you want, from whatever manufacturer so long as it’s randomly assorted. If I had my choice my near death experience would be a bag of Cherry Pull ‘n Peel Twizzlers.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
180 – 60 = 120
A third of the way through my second journey down the rabbit hole and I’ve discovered that time couldn’t possibly go by any faster, yet seem to go by any slower. I’ve described it before, comparing it to the movie Groundhogs Day. Every single day is almost exactly the same, with various little changes here and there. The key is to remember Rule 32.
So you ask, Jeff… What is Rule 32? Where did it come from?
Rule 32 is from the movie Zombieland and the rule states “Enjoy the Little Things.” Enjoying the little things is exactly what we all try to do every day. For some of us the roses are a little harder to smell, but for simple minded people like me, it’s easy to find the little joys that the higher powers have given us.
What little things?
Well, I’m glad I pretended you asked! I enjoy listening to music and reading about finance. I’ve realized my lost enjoyment of classical and jazz. I enjoy going to the gym with a real workout plan and actually seeing gains again. I enjoy watching my speed increase every time I get on the treadmill.
I enjoy going to the chow hall and finding new ways to top a baked potato or discovering different combinations of vegetables I can pile on my plate. I enjoy keeping myself hungry enough after a previous meal to be very excited for the next.
I enjoy seeing new ways I can set up my launch and recovery controls to optimize my performance. I still haven’t been able to break my previous record of an 8 minute launch, but I can recover faster than anyone else here. I enjoy seeing how quickly I can finish my paper work after recovering. I try to get all my stuff done before they’ve defueled the aircraft so they’re not waiting on me to finish.
I did enjoy watching The Office at night before bed. Now that I’ve finished seasons 1-5, I’m going to go back to enjoying watching a movie every night while sipping on a Diet Sprite and trying to figure out how I can cram another gym session into my day.
I enjoy playing Scrabble, seeing how effective I can get by playing the computer and turn around and try to beat some of my more seasoned friends. I enjoy trying to find that perfect combination of Triple Letter Scores, ‘A’s and a well placed Z to get that 62 point word with that one letter. I enjoy getting Bingos and seeing what strange new combinations of letters that I thought couldn’t possibly be a word turn out to be words.
I enjoy reading long emails. It reminds me that the world isn’t as big as it once was and it makes the time pass just that little bit faster.
I enjoy knowing that in 120 days I’ll be back home, in my own bed, without mutant spiders and rockets.
I enjoy reminding myself about Rule 32 and I think you should enjoy that too.
So you ask, Jeff… What is Rule 32? Where did it come from?
Rule 32 is from the movie Zombieland and the rule states “Enjoy the Little Things.” Enjoying the little things is exactly what we all try to do every day. For some of us the roses are a little harder to smell, but for simple minded people like me, it’s easy to find the little joys that the higher powers have given us.
What little things?
Well, I’m glad I pretended you asked! I enjoy listening to music and reading about finance. I’ve realized my lost enjoyment of classical and jazz. I enjoy going to the gym with a real workout plan and actually seeing gains again. I enjoy watching my speed increase every time I get on the treadmill.
I enjoy going to the chow hall and finding new ways to top a baked potato or discovering different combinations of vegetables I can pile on my plate. I enjoy keeping myself hungry enough after a previous meal to be very excited for the next.
I enjoy seeing new ways I can set up my launch and recovery controls to optimize my performance. I still haven’t been able to break my previous record of an 8 minute launch, but I can recover faster than anyone else here. I enjoy seeing how quickly I can finish my paper work after recovering. I try to get all my stuff done before they’ve defueled the aircraft so they’re not waiting on me to finish.
I did enjoy watching The Office at night before bed. Now that I’ve finished seasons 1-5, I’m going to go back to enjoying watching a movie every night while sipping on a Diet Sprite and trying to figure out how I can cram another gym session into my day.
I enjoy playing Scrabble, seeing how effective I can get by playing the computer and turn around and try to beat some of my more seasoned friends. I enjoy trying to find that perfect combination of Triple Letter Scores, ‘A’s and a well placed Z to get that 62 point word with that one letter. I enjoy getting Bingos and seeing what strange new combinations of letters that I thought couldn’t possibly be a word turn out to be words.
I enjoy reading long emails. It reminds me that the world isn’t as big as it once was and it makes the time pass just that little bit faster.
I enjoy knowing that in 120 days I’ll be back home, in my own bed, without mutant spiders and rockets.
I enjoy reminding myself about Rule 32 and I think you should enjoy that too.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
I Hope That’s Just Sweat…
A few days ago I had this interesting dream. I dreamt that I was lying in bed, and this bubble bee had found its way into my living container. I’m always paranoid that one of those nasty camel spiders is going to find its way into my room and crawl on me. If you haven’t seen a camel spider there is a picture of one on my Facebook page that we caught while I was in Afghanistan. It’s the one that we had a funeral for after it died. She… He… It was our site mascot for a few days until its passing.
Anyway, in this dream I was lying in bed and heard this awful loud buzzing around me. I started swatting at it, in an ill fated attempt to kill it. I say ill fated because I woke myself up as I slammed my hand against the wall. In that phase between awake and asleep I could really hear a faint buzz but wasn’t sure if I was still dreaming or not. Then a sudden BOOM followed by “INCOMING INCOMING INCOMING” from the rocket attack alarm.
That same alarm has gone off 8 times in the past 10 days, but most of the rockets haven’t landed close enough to hear or feel. So the sound of one of them landing so close startled me. I thought to myself… “I hope that’s just sweat” regarding the moisture in my shorts. I got out of bed in time to hear another BOOM! The alarm continued, unlike before when it would stop and there would be a period of silence before the all clear. Then another BOOM, which rattled the poorly insulated walls of my trailer. These were followed by three more thuds off in the distance somewhere, yet close enough to hear. At this point I was seriously considering making a break for the bunkers.
I put on a shirt and stood for moment and listened to see if the others were leaving their trailers. I said something in one of my previous posts, while out in Afghanistan, about only getting panicked if others were, never mind survival of the fittest, I’m a lemming. Since I didn’t hear anyone else freaking out I got back into bed and hoped that that dream wasn’t going to be my last.
Then another BOOM thundered through the darkness, which wasn’t as close as the first wall rattler but close enough to create a little rumble. Still I didn’t hear anyone else making a run for it. So I thought, well if I leave now I’ll have to sit in the cold by myself until the all clear, so I’ll take my chances here. At some point I also said something about not wanting to die alone, I’ll add alone in cold now.
The alarm finally stopped and I waited, silently, listening for that unholy buzz of rockets. Nothing… Nothing… Nothing… Then the alarms woke back up, but this time sounding the all clear. I fell back asleep for that last few hours I had before having to head to work.
When I woke up the second time that night I did my regular nightly routine. I work nights, so you can consider it a daily routine if it makes you feel better. I headed for the showers to clean the fear off myself, you know because those jackals can smell fear. The winds were very high because of a fast moving storm front, so I double timed it for the showers. After getting all squeaky clean and brushing my teeth I double timed it back, so as not to get unclean from windblown dust, and got ready for work.
I normally have some time before we leave to sit and relax for a minute, so I busted out my iPhone, sat on my bed and started playing Plants vs. Zombies. Without warning a thunderous crack shook my entire trailer like an earthquake just hit. It was like Chicken Little showed up but forgot to tell me that the freaking sky was falling. My heart stopped… After I realized that I wasn’t dead I thought to myself “Well ‘f’ this, I’m getting out of here.”
I grabbed my stuff went outside to find that it was only lightening this time. The guys were already in the car waiting for me. They said that they were momentarily blinded by Zeus’s fury. I made that up, the fury part, not the blindness… They didn’t actually say Zeus’s fury but I’ll start using that to reference any lightning bolt that falls within 500 yards of my present location. One of them said they felt their heart stop, the other said he could feel all his hairs stand up.
We high tailed it to the site, all the while the sky looked like there was an intergalactic laser light show happening. I have never been so happy to A.) Still be in one piece and B.) Not been a victim of Zeus’s fury. Thank god it really was just sweat…
Anyway, in this dream I was lying in bed and heard this awful loud buzzing around me. I started swatting at it, in an ill fated attempt to kill it. I say ill fated because I woke myself up as I slammed my hand against the wall. In that phase between awake and asleep I could really hear a faint buzz but wasn’t sure if I was still dreaming or not. Then a sudden BOOM followed by “INCOMING INCOMING INCOMING” from the rocket attack alarm.
That same alarm has gone off 8 times in the past 10 days, but most of the rockets haven’t landed close enough to hear or feel. So the sound of one of them landing so close startled me. I thought to myself… “I hope that’s just sweat” regarding the moisture in my shorts. I got out of bed in time to hear another BOOM! The alarm continued, unlike before when it would stop and there would be a period of silence before the all clear. Then another BOOM, which rattled the poorly insulated walls of my trailer. These were followed by three more thuds off in the distance somewhere, yet close enough to hear. At this point I was seriously considering making a break for the bunkers.
I put on a shirt and stood for moment and listened to see if the others were leaving their trailers. I said something in one of my previous posts, while out in Afghanistan, about only getting panicked if others were, never mind survival of the fittest, I’m a lemming. Since I didn’t hear anyone else freaking out I got back into bed and hoped that that dream wasn’t going to be my last.
Then another BOOM thundered through the darkness, which wasn’t as close as the first wall rattler but close enough to create a little rumble. Still I didn’t hear anyone else making a run for it. So I thought, well if I leave now I’ll have to sit in the cold by myself until the all clear, so I’ll take my chances here. At some point I also said something about not wanting to die alone, I’ll add alone in cold now.
The alarm finally stopped and I waited, silently, listening for that unholy buzz of rockets. Nothing… Nothing… Nothing… Then the alarms woke back up, but this time sounding the all clear. I fell back asleep for that last few hours I had before having to head to work.
When I woke up the second time that night I did my regular nightly routine. I work nights, so you can consider it a daily routine if it makes you feel better. I headed for the showers to clean the fear off myself, you know because those jackals can smell fear. The winds were very high because of a fast moving storm front, so I double timed it for the showers. After getting all squeaky clean and brushing my teeth I double timed it back, so as not to get unclean from windblown dust, and got ready for work.
I normally have some time before we leave to sit and relax for a minute, so I busted out my iPhone, sat on my bed and started playing Plants vs. Zombies. Without warning a thunderous crack shook my entire trailer like an earthquake just hit. It was like Chicken Little showed up but forgot to tell me that the freaking sky was falling. My heart stopped… After I realized that I wasn’t dead I thought to myself “Well ‘f’ this, I’m getting out of here.”
I grabbed my stuff went outside to find that it was only lightening this time. The guys were already in the car waiting for me. They said that they were momentarily blinded by Zeus’s fury. I made that up, the fury part, not the blindness… They didn’t actually say Zeus’s fury but I’ll start using that to reference any lightning bolt that falls within 500 yards of my present location. One of them said they felt their heart stop, the other said he could feel all his hairs stand up.
We high tailed it to the site, all the while the sky looked like there was an intergalactic laser light show happening. I have never been so happy to A.) Still be in one piece and B.) Not been a victim of Zeus’s fury. Thank god it really was just sweat…
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Unmistakable Lack of Something
I’ve been at this site in Iraq for nearly a month now, give or take a week. Honestly I have no idea how long I’ve been out here since the lack of change make the days roll into each other. But one thing I discovered today is that I’m missing something here that made me happier in Afghanistan.
Life here is noticeably nicer than it was at my previous location. I have my own living container, which is roughly 16x8 foot trailer complete with air conditioning, power and a small refrigerator, courtesy of the last guy who lived here. I have a memory foam mattress pad given to me by a new friend who left a couple weeks after I arrived and a completely carpeted floor thanks to the Post Exchange and about $15. Indeed, the living conditions are nothing to look down upon.
The dining facility is second to none. The building is a brand new Costco sized monstrosity complete with smoothie bar and ice cream. I’m trying to get people to call it the “buffet” instead of the “chow hall” but my lack of persistence has resulted in failure. Nonetheless, the food there is nearly 10x better than that in Afghanistan and quality thus far is just shy of the stuff you can find in your grocery store frozen food aisle, not the like TV dinners I was having before. Yup, life out here isn’t bad at all.
So then, why am I saying there is an unmistakable lack of something? Well I said it so there must be something right? As they say the grass is always greener. For some reason when I woke up this particular day I felt a little somber. For some reason this memory foam pad atop this decent twin sized bed felt less comfortable than the cots I was in. The privacy gained isn’t near as nice as having a bunch of guys living in a tent.
I wondered how was it possible, given all these bells and whistles, that I was still somehow unhappy? (Unhappy is probably the wrong word, so think of something half way between happy and unhappy) Then it hit me, like a freight train it hit me. It was that unmistakable lack of camaraderie. The jovial attitude you get when you put a bunch of 20-somethings in an austere environment and tell them to work together. The fact is, yes we worked in Afghanistan, but at that time it felt like it was more play.
I had fun in Afghanistan. I enjoyed hanging out with everyone there and hopefully I was able to extend the same feelings to others around me. I found myself wishing I was waking up in a cot, covered in sand with a camel spider crawling through my stuff. I’d go as far to say that I missed to food, but I haven’t completely lost it yet.
But there is that missing puzzle piece that will probably never be replaced, because even if I had returned to that same place in Afghanistan everyone would already have left. If I walk away with one lesson from this entire experience it will be that no matter how many luxuries you have the people are what really matter. Either that or it’s the fact that my cigars are locked in one of our guy’s foot locker.
Life here is noticeably nicer than it was at my previous location. I have my own living container, which is roughly 16x8 foot trailer complete with air conditioning, power and a small refrigerator, courtesy of the last guy who lived here. I have a memory foam mattress pad given to me by a new friend who left a couple weeks after I arrived and a completely carpeted floor thanks to the Post Exchange and about $15. Indeed, the living conditions are nothing to look down upon.
The dining facility is second to none. The building is a brand new Costco sized monstrosity complete with smoothie bar and ice cream. I’m trying to get people to call it the “buffet” instead of the “chow hall” but my lack of persistence has resulted in failure. Nonetheless, the food there is nearly 10x better than that in Afghanistan and quality thus far is just shy of the stuff you can find in your grocery store frozen food aisle, not the like TV dinners I was having before. Yup, life out here isn’t bad at all.
So then, why am I saying there is an unmistakable lack of something? Well I said it so there must be something right? As they say the grass is always greener. For some reason when I woke up this particular day I felt a little somber. For some reason this memory foam pad atop this decent twin sized bed felt less comfortable than the cots I was in. The privacy gained isn’t near as nice as having a bunch of guys living in a tent.
I wondered how was it possible, given all these bells and whistles, that I was still somehow unhappy? (Unhappy is probably the wrong word, so think of something half way between happy and unhappy) Then it hit me, like a freight train it hit me. It was that unmistakable lack of camaraderie. The jovial attitude you get when you put a bunch of 20-somethings in an austere environment and tell them to work together. The fact is, yes we worked in Afghanistan, but at that time it felt like it was more play.
I had fun in Afghanistan. I enjoyed hanging out with everyone there and hopefully I was able to extend the same feelings to others around me. I found myself wishing I was waking up in a cot, covered in sand with a camel spider crawling through my stuff. I’d go as far to say that I missed to food, but I haven’t completely lost it yet.
But there is that missing puzzle piece that will probably never be replaced, because even if I had returned to that same place in Afghanistan everyone would already have left. If I walk away with one lesson from this entire experience it will be that no matter how many luxuries you have the people are what really matter. Either that or it’s the fact that my cigars are locked in one of our guy’s foot locker.
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